


The Really Weird Stuff

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Caning, Foot Beating, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, M/M, Rope Bondage, Tickling, bastinado, foot job, puns, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Jack has a... thing he wants to talk to Mark about.





	The Really Weird Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YAOI_FOREVAH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YAOI_FOREVAH/gifts).



> Edited by the ever lovely Angel! Thank you, babe!

"Hey, uh, Mark?"

"What's up?"

"You know how, uh... how you said you wanted to do more weird kinky shit?"

Mark looked up from dinner plate, looking quizzical. 

"I thought you said you didn't have any kinks," he told Jack, in a mock accusing tone. "Or have you finally figured out what it is that you like?"

"I... might have been doing some thinking," Jack said, and he laughed. 

* * * 

Mark burst out laughing when he heard, full on, belly laughing. 

" _That's_ it?!"

"Shut up," Jack mumbled, sinking down into his chair and turning red all the way up to his hairline. "I know it's weird."

"That's, like, the cutest shit I've ever heard of," said Mark. "We can totally do that."

"What, really?"

"Yeah, really." 

Jack smiled, and he wasn't even sure if it was with excitement, or anxiety.

* * * 

Jack sat on the bed, anxiety climbing up and down his back as Mark dug through his bag.

"Are you absolutely sure this isn't too... you know, weird?" Jack tried to keep his voice calm, various clatterings and clinks came from the bag.

"Dude," said Mark, casually taking stuff out of his bag and dropping it on the bed next to Jack, "it's not that big a deal."

"Yeah, but, like... I know it's weird," Jack said, still defensive. 

He curled his toes against each other, as if he was trying to interlace them.

"Oh no," Mark said, his tone deadpan as he pulled a few other things out of his bag. "You like having your feet played with. How horrible."

"It sounds so... innocuous when you say it like that," Jack said, his tone accusing. 

"Maybe that's the point," Mark said. 

He grinned up at Jack through his eyelashes, surveying the pile of stuff that he'd left out. "So... you think that's enough stuff?"

"I don't even know what you're planning on doing with half that shit," Jack said. 

"Some of what we negotiated,” Mark said, shoving his bag to the side.

"Well, okay, no, I mean, yeah, we're obviously gonna do the shit that we negotiated," Jack said. "Because you wouldn't do something we hadn't negotiated, you're not that kinda player, I know you're a good player, I've seen other people in the scene talk about how you're good at this shit."

Jack was aware he was babbling.

He tended to babble when he was nervous.

He just didn't know how to _stop_. 

"Who've you talked to who's done scenes with me?" Mark looked genuinely interested.

Jack rattled off a list of names.

"Oh. Huh! I can never tell if they're enjoying themselves - they're so... quiet."

"Well, they were raving about you!" 

"Glad I made an impression!" Mark held up a coil of rope, and he smiled at Jack like a shark. "You ready?"

Jack swallowed thickly, but he nodded. 

"Let's do this shit."

* * *

Jack's ankles were tied together, with a set of "rope handcuffs," as Mark put it.

"Wouldn't they technically be rope ankle shackles?"

"You're being a smartass," Mark said, as he tied the long length rope to one of the legs of the bed.

There was enough slack on the rope that Jack could move around if he wanted to, but his ankles were tied to each other, and he could only move so far while on the bed. 

"Now," said Mark, and he sat in front of Jack, grabbing the rope that had tied his ankles together, and he held Jack's heels in his palms. 

"Now?" Jack tried to sit up, propped up by pillows, as Mark kept fiddling. 

"Shall we get started?"

His breath was gentle across the soles of Jack's feet, and a few little pieces of stubble brushed against them as well.

"S-sure," said Jack, licking his lips.

He was wearing a pair of boxers, and he was already at half mast, his body over sensitive and desperate for... something.

Mark kissed the very tip of Jack's big toe, and Jack made a surprised noise.

"What?" Mark waggled his eyebrows. He held eye contact, and then he leaned forward, taking the middle two toes of Jack's left foot into his mouth and sucking.

Jack bellowed, his legs twitching - he nearly kicked Mark in the face, before Mark grabbed the long rope, keeping him in place.

"None of that," Mark told Jack.

Jack laughed, a little breathless.

"S-s-sorry about that," Jack mumbled. "It's... intense."

"I know," said Mark, and he grinned. "There's a reason I tied you up, you know."

Jack laughed again, still breathless. 

"Shall I continue?"

"Please do."

Mark's tongue slid between Jack's toes, and he sucked on the very middle one, gently. 

Jack moaned, the stimulation going straight to his dick, twitching and throbbing in his boxers as it began to fill with blood.

"Wow," said Mark, pulling back and looking down at Jack's lap. "I didn't realize you liked it _that_ much!" 

"I can't help it," Jack mumbled, still squirming. "It's... you know, nerve maps and shit."

"Right," said Mark, beginning to kiss along the sole of Jack's foot, the tip of his tongue occasionally slipping out to brush along one wrinkled seam, and that got Jack wriggling some more, torn somewhere between giggling at the tickle, and moaning from even more arousal. 

"Fuck, Mark," Jack mumbled.

"I can't fuck you if your ankles are tied together," Mark told Jack.

Jack gave him a Look.

Mark smirked, looking something pretty close to smug. 

"So," said Mark, moving to Jack's right foot, sliding his tongue between each toe and sucking on it, "how about we do something nice and special for you?" 

"S-s-special?" 

"Well," said Mark, "you did open up about your weird kink. So why not try something... interesting?"

"I'm always willing to try interesting," Jack said, clearly nervously. "What kinda interesting?"

"How would you feel about me caning your feet?"

"My _feet_?" 

Jack raised an eyebrow.

It was Mark's turn to look slightly flustered.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just, um... since you mentioned the whole... foot thing, I did some research on all the ways you can... you know, spice that up, and you mentioned that you like being caned and whatnot, so I thought maybe we could... try something new."

"So bastinado?"

Mark's face lit up.

"Yes. Exactly."

"... sure," said Jack. "I'd be willing to try it." 

He'd try anything once.

Mark paused, looking at Jack with a thoughtful expression.

"If we're gonna do that," he told Jack, "we're gonna have to do a bit of rearranging.”

"Rearranging?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"You need to be on your belly," said Mark. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Mark. "Hold on."

* * * 

There was a lot of wriggling. 

Mark had to grab the rope, tie the end of it to the foot of the bed, then get Jack’s knees at the proper angle, until the bottoms of Jack’s feet were just… presented to Mark, like they were on a platter.

Wow, but this was.. Intense.

It was weird - he’d been buck naked around Mark, in much more compromising positions.

But usually Mark wasn’t paying attention to his feet.

He didn’t really get why his feet were so damn sensitive, but the idea of having Mark playing with them - let alone the act itself - was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head.

“You have big feet,” said Mark, and he was stroking the pad of his finger along the soles of Jack’s feet. 

“Y-y-yeah,” said Jack, and he laughed, nervous, trying to wriggle away from the tickling, but held in place by the rope, and by one of Mark’s hands on his ankle. 

“I’m not complaining,” Mark said, and he ran another finger along Jack’s sole.

Jack made an undignified noise, still wriggling.

“So much space,” said Mark.

“I feel like I’d be more… I feel like I’d be more complemented if this was… like, my dick.”

“Do you want me to cane your dick?”

“ _No_!”

Mark snickered, and Jack squirmed, and then Mark was wriggling his fingers across the soles of Jack’s feet.

Oh god.

That was too fucking much.

It was ticklish enough that Jack wriggled, beginning to cackle, beginning to hump against the bed. 

“Is your dick ticklish, is the thing I’m wondering,” said Mark. 

“Dicks can’t be… ticklish,” Jack mumbled, and he kept laughing. 

“You wanna bet?”

“No, no,” Jack said quickly. “I’m good.” 

“You good?”

“I’m good.”

“I guess I’m not doing it right then, huh?” Mark tapped at the soles of Jack’s feet, and Jack’s toes curled. 

The pain was… immediate. 

Intense. 

The kind of pain that he’d never even experienced before, because how often are the soles of the feet beaten like that?

“Wow,” said Mark. “There are absolutely _no_ marks on the bottoms of your feet.”

“I’ve got… I’ve got st-strong feet?” Jack squirmed.

“Nah,” said Mark. “I read somewhere that the feet have the thickest skin.”

“Is that why they take insults so well?” Jack laughed into the pillows. 

Three quick hits with the cane, one after the other, all on the same spot, and Jack’s eyes rolled up in the back of his head, his toes curling. It was across both feet, both soles taking it.

There was a piece of rope between his toes. 

He squeezed it. 

“Was that really necessary? My joke wasn’t _that_ bad.”

Another hit, and another, as Jack humped against the bed. 

“It was pretty bad,” said Mark. 

“As bad as those hits are?”

“How bad are these hits?” 

More hits, one of them along Jack’s arch, and Jack bellowed, then shook his head very quickly.

“Red,” Jack said. “No, ow, no, no more.”

“No more?” 

There was a clatter, and then Mark was lying on the bed next to Jack, belly down, their faces closer together. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said, bumping his forehead against Mark’s, rubbing noses with him like a sap. 

“I’m worried that I hurt you,” said Mark, “like, badly.” 

Jack wriggled his toes experimentally, and then he stretched them. 

“I think I’ll be okay?”

“Is there any way for us to check?”

“I mean, you could, like, untie me, and I can walk around, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“I still feel guilty,” said Mark, and he looked guilty, too. “Can I make it up to you?”

“... can I get a foot rub?” Jack gave him puppy eyes. 

“You’ve got such a foot obsession,” Mark said, and they grinned. 

“We’re gonna have to fiddle with the rope some more,” said Jack. “I’m sorry.”

“We need to invest in some good shackles,” Mark said casually.

“Shackles?” Jack stretched his legs, as Mark just let go of the rope, circling his ankles to get more comfortable. 

“Yeah,” said Mark. “If you’re not, like, permanently scarred from getting your feet caned -” 

“I think that _you’ve_ been permanently scarred from caning my feet,” Jack teased, as Mark put the rope in the bag right next to the hamper. 

“What do you mean?”

“You always get twitchy when I call a safeword,” said Jack. 

“Well, yeah,” said Mark. “It means I’m a bad Top.”

“For fuck sake,” Jack groaned, covering his face with both hands. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know, I know,” Mark said, both hands up. “It’s not a sign I’m a bad Top if you call your safeword, I don’t need to go into exile in the Howling Desert -”

“Why would the desert be howling? I thought it’d be the Deadly Desert.”

“No, see, if I go to the Howling Desert, I’ll be able to make friends with the coyotes.”

“Coyotes?” Jack looked at Mark over the swell of his stomach. 

“There’s a reason it’s howling, right?” Mark frowned, staring at the top of the dresser. “I know I’ve got lotion somewhere.”

“I left it in the bathroom,” Jack said. “When I was putting it on my tattoo, remember?”

“... right,” said Mark, looking sheepish. 

“What do you need lotion for, anyway?” Jack called, as Mark went off to the bathroom. 

“I can’t give you a proper foot rub without it,” Mark said, in his best “no, d’uh!” tone of voice. 

“A proper foot rub,” Jack said, deadpan, as Mark came back, holding the small blue bottle with something like triumph. “Versus a bootleg foot rub.”

“The opposite of proper isn’t bootleg,” said Mark. “It could be argued that the opposite of proper would be improper. Since it’s got the word “proper” in it.” 

“You’re being pedantic,” Jack said, gesturing vaguely with one foot.

“Don’t you want me to be _podantic_?” Mark sat down at the foot of the bed, grabbing for Jack’s foot and pulling it into his lap.

“... oh my god,” Jack said, and he groaned like he was in pain.

He was in a bit of pain, from the pull of his tender sole (still sore from the caning), but mainly from the godawful joke. 

“You know,” Mark said, his voice going a bit rough, a bit quiet, “you _do_ have nice feet?”

“You really think so?” Jack blushed, curling his toes around Mark’s finger, as Mark slid his finger between them. 

“Yeah,” said Mark. “They’re big, but, like… well shaped.” 

He cleared his throat, resting Jack’s foot on his lap, and Jack realized, with some surprise, that Mark had an erection. 

What were the chances of that?

Jack pressed down on it with his foot, very gently, and Mark went very still, before shivering, grabbing the lotion and pumping some of it into his hand.

* * * 

Jack groaned as Mark’s strong hands kneaded at his sole, digging into the very top of his foot.

“Christ, Mark, do you do anything in half measures?” Jack squirmed, then groaned, as Mark pulled on his toes, cracking them. 

“I don’t see the point,” Mark said, and he grinned, switching feet, spreading more lotion over Jack’s foot, beginning to knead it as well. “Also, wow, your feet are dry.”

“I don’t exactly lotion them up that often,” said Jack.

“You should jerk off,” said Mark, and he cleared his throat, looking embarrassed and horny.

“Hmm?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

He had most of his erection still - it had been going up and down over the course of the scene, but it was firming up pretty rapidly, the way Mark was manipulating his feet. 

“Your dick. You should jerk off.”

“... only if you take your dick out,” said Jack, struck with a burst of inspiration. “You ever gotten a foot job?”

“Well, no,” said Mark. “Have you ever _given_ one?”

“No,” said Jack, “but how hard can it be?” He snickered, nudging at Mark’s cock through Mark’s pajama pants, leaving a lotion smear on the fabric. “It can’t be as hard as your dick, can it?”

“You keep making horrible jokes and I’ll cane you again,” Mark said, and he was pulling his dick out, resting it between Jack’s feet.

It was hard, the head red and dripping pre. 

“My footsies can’t take that much abuse,” said Jack, pressing his soles together.

Mark’s cock was hot, the skin soft against Jack’s feet.

Mark made a surprised noise. 

“That feels… really weird.”

“What kinda weird?” Jack awkwardly dragged his feet up and down along the shaft, curling his toes over the head, then bringing his soles back together, squeezing the head of Mark’s head between them.

“Holy shit,” Mark stuttered, and he rocked his hips forward, pushing his cock into the tight channel.

“Nice, huh?” Jack fisted his own cock, jerking it in time with Mark’s thrusts.

“You’ve… I didn’t know you could do this,” Mark said, grabbing at Jack’s ankles and pressing Jack’s feet closer together, making the space he was fucking tighter.

Jack moaned - the slide of Mark’s cock across his soles was… intense, almost ticklish, hot, dragging back and forth across the sensitive skin, and that was enough stimulation to get Jack’s own cock twitching in his fist. 

Mark was staring down at Jack’s feet, then at Jack’s face, licking his lips.

“I’m… kind of into this,” he told Jack, in a hushed tone of voice.

“I can feel your dick, Mark,” Jack said, and he was laughing, curling his toes so that the shaft of Mark’s cock dragged against the tips of them, adding more sensation.

Mark gave a gutshot groan, and he squeezed Jack’s ankles, hard enough that Jack might end up bruised. 

“Fuck,” Jack whined, and he had to struggle to keep his knees in the right position, still pressing down on Mark’s cock, and then Mark was cumming across his soles, onto Jack’s own dick, and that was… unexpected, but Jack wasn’t going to complain, because Mark had the most beautiful face when he came, his whole face opening up like a flower, his mouth dropping open and his eyes squeezing shut. 

“Holy shit,” Mark said, and he stared down, slightly dazed, as Jack jerked himself to completion, his orgasm snapping in his gut like a twig. 

Jack came and came, his toes curling around Mark’s oversensitive cock, his own cock swelling, then spitting cum across his belly, up to his chest. 

“Wow,” said Mark.

“So what do you think? Have I brought you over to the creepy side?”

“What creepy side?” Mark flopped onto the bed next to Mark, pulling Jack closer to him, his head on Jack’s chest. 

“You know, ‘cause foot fetish dudes are so creepy.”

Mark shrugged.

“I don’t think you’re creepy,” Mark said. 

“Do you think you’re creepy?”

“I can see myself entering on the path towards creepy,” Mark allowed, and he was smirking in spite of himself. 

Jack ran one of his feet along Mark’s leg, under his pajama pants, and Mark made a disgusted noise.

“You’ve still got cum on your foot!”

“Well, yeah,” said Jack. “It’s _your_ cum.”

“Still!”

Jack snorted, and prodded Mark in the side.

Mark prodded him back.

* * * 

It was later.

About a week later.

They were back on the bed, though. 

They were… very much on the bed. 

It could be argued that Jack was trying to make Mark one with the bed, judging by the way that he was fucking into Mark, draped across Mark’s back, his face in Mark’s sweaty neck, his hips working desperately against Mark’s own. He was holding on to Mark’s hips, one hand gloved and covered in lube, one hand bare and sweaty.

Mark was pushing back against Jack, the headboard knocking, and Chica was barking on the other side of the door.

They’d probably have to do something about that really soon.

Although there were more immediate problems.

Like the fact that Jack’s cock had just slid out of Mark’s ass, and Jack was just scrabbling to put it back in, his fingers scrabbling on the latex of the condom. 

“Maybe we should try a different position,” Mark said, looking over his shoulder at Jack. 

He did something interesting with his inner muscles, and Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head, as he tried to circle his hips.

He popped out again.

“This is easier when I’m not wearing a condom,” Jack mumbled into the skin on the back of Mark’s shoulder. 

“I’m not cleaning out my insides for an afternoon quickie,” Mark said, pulling off of Jack’s dick to flop onto his back.

“Well, okay, yeah, I wasn’t, like, complaining,” Jack said quickly, rearranging Mark’s legs so that he was sitting between them. 

“Good,” said Mark, and he pushed his sweaty hair out of his face. 

“You think I’d be that much of a douche?” Jack groped for the lube, which was lying on its side next to Mark’s hip, thankfully still capped. 

He poured more lube onto his cock, spreading it out along the shaft, focusing on the head. Then he drizzled more onto his gloved fingers, closing the lube and dropping it back onto the bed.

Jack’s fingers slid into Mark, and he began to thrust them, carefully. 

Mark’s feet were resting against Jack’s calves.

Jack hadn’t… well, done anything with Mark’s feet.

Mark liked playing with Jack’s feet.

When Jack had asked about playing with Mark’s feet, Mark had said “sure, but later” and the two of them had gotten distracted by one thing or another.

But Jack wasn’t really thinking about feet, apart from the fact that they existed, as he watched Mark’s face, took in all the ways it changed as Jack pressed his finger in deeper, until he could crook his finger, find that one change in texture, and Mark was surging up against him, his cock leaking, drooling down his shaft. 

“You like that?” Jack’s voice was rough as he thrusted shallowly, Mark’s hole pulling his fingers in, squeezing his knuckles. 

“I mean,” Mark rasped, peeking one eye open, still panting and thrusting into Jack’s hand, “I liked it the first time you did it. And I’ve still got, you know, all this.” He indicated his dripping cock.

Jack rolled his eyes, and jabbed at Mark’s prostate with the tips of his fingers.

Mark bellowed, and Chica, who had been quiet, joined in. 

“You’re gonna have to go comfort her s-s-soon,” Mark told Jack.

“Why do I have to calm her down?” Jack twisted his fingers like a screw, and Mark’s heels dug into Jack’s calves.

Now _that_ was an interesting sensation. 

“Because… oh, fuck, right there - because you’re m-making the noise,” Mark said thickly, humping up into Jack’s hand.

“Excuse me? Am I using your vocal chords or something?” Jack wrapped his other hand around Mark’s cock, squeezing it.

“Well, okay, no,” Mark said, “but technically if I’m playing a trumpet, I’m still making the noise, even if the trumpet is producing it.”

“So you’re a trumpet?” Jack pulled his fingers out of Mark, grabbing Mark’s hips and holding on to his cock, guiding it inside of Mark’s hole.

Mark’s muscles pulled Jack in, taking the bulbous head in, and then Jack was watching his shaft slide all the way in, as Mark just… took it all in. 

“You feel so big,” Mark mumbled, and he wriggled under Jack, bringing his knees up, pressing them into Jack’s ribs.

“Christ you’re bony,” Jack said, grabbing Mark’s knees and bringing them up.

This got Mark’s sharp knees out of Jack’s ribs, and it bent Mark nearly in half, which gave Jack a better view of his own cock going in and out of Mark’s hole, and he pressed in deeper, just to see Mark’s toes curl, and Mark’s hole tighten around him. 

“Fuck,” Mark groaned, “you feel… shit, that’s good, you’re so… fuck!”

“No, I’m not so fuck,” Jack said, breathless.

His arms were getting sore from holding Mark’s legs open - he hoisted them onto his shoulders, lacking anything else to do with them.

Mark’s heels were digging into his shoulder blades now, but it was worth it, because he was… he was getting deeper, and Mark’s toes were pressing into the back of his head, which was a very… odd sensation, to be sure, but it was something. 

“Fuck, your hair feels really weird on, like, the bottoms of my feet,” mumbled Mark.

“How many times do you step on hairy stuff?” Jack tried to roll his hips, probing with the head of his cock.

“I mean, I sometimes… pet Chica with my feet….” Mark mumbled. “You’re not Chica.”

“... could you not talk about the dog while I’m balls deep in you?”

“A thousand pardons for trying to keep up with the flow of conversation,” Mark complained.

“Why not enjoy being fucked?” Jack rolled his hips luxuriously, letting go of Mark’s hips to wrap his hand around Mark’s erection, squeezing it in his lubed up, gloved hand.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned, and his hips snapped forward. 

“Yeah?” Jack grinned down at Mark, aware he was smiling too widely, aware that he was starting to pant, that he was turning pink, that he was shaking. 

Mark was squeezing him, using all of those muscles of his, and Jack wondered faintly if he actually knew what he was doing, or if Mark was just had an innate talent for butt fucking, the way some people have a talent for making cheese, or playing the piano.

He’d have to ask Mark about that, some other time. 

If he had much practice, or if he’d given much thought into how good he was, at taking dick. Although phrasing it like that might cause some problems, since it ended up sounding kind of… insulting, but why was he chasing his tail like this, because holy shit, he was balls deep in Mark, and Mark was moaning and squirming, trying to get him to move.

One of Mark’s feet had drifted over to Jack’s face, the sole of it pressed against his cheek, Mark’s toes curling in his hair. 

Impulsively, he turned his head, kissing Mark’s sole.

Mark made a surprised noise, but he didn’t move his foot. His other foot pressed against Jack’s ear, his toes curling against the bristly hair on the sides of Jack’s head. 

Jack kept eye contact, licking along Mark’s sole, and Mark moaned, his hole fluttering around the base of Jack’s cock.

Jack moaned back, and pressed sloppy kisses along the line of Mark’s arch. 

Mark moaned, guttural, like he was in pain, and Jack grinned.

“You’re tickling me with your stubble,” Mark said.

“I can’t exactly get rid of that,” Jack said dryly. “Unless you want me to pull out right now to go shave my face, at which point I will look like I’m -”

“Can you just shut up and go back to fucking me?” Mark said quickly. 

“I never stopped fucking you,” Jack said, rolling his hips just to prove his point. 

Mark gave another moan, wriggling under Jack, and Jack turned his head, no doubt stimulating Mark's foot with his stubble.

Jack took Mark's middle two toes into his mouth and sucked, sliding his tongue between them. He moved his head, the same way he did when he sucked Mark's cock. 

Mark watched, his brown eyes wide, and he moaned, still humping against Jack, as Jack stroked him clumsily.

“You didn't say it felt this… felt this… oh my _god_!” 

“Hmm?” Jack pulled off of Mark's toes, a line of saliva going from his lips to Mark's digits. He smiled, and he fluttered his eyelashes. “Something the matter, Mark?”

“Everything is g-g-great,” Mark stuttered, and he was clenching tighter around Jack, as if that was possible. 

The lovely pressure of his squeezing was only matched by the equally lovely pressure building at the base of Jack's spine. 

He was going to cum like a goddamn fire hose. 

“You sure about that?” Jack made his voice sweet, casual, as if he wasn't just about to shoot his load into the condom, as if he weren't buried so deep inside of Mark he could feel the other man’s heartbeat. 

It sped up when Jack kissed along his sole, and his interior muscles fluttered around the length of Jack's cock. 

“Pretty damn sure,” Mark said, his voice breaking. “Pretty goddamn sure.”

“I dunno,” Jack said lazily, around the toes in his mouth. He began to thrust a little faster, rolling his hips, full on thrusting. Not with the intensity he had earlier, but with a finesse. 

He was getting deeper than he had, and judging by the way Mark had started to tremble, he was doing a good job. 

Mark's hips were wiggling to keep up with Jack's, and he let out guttural, desperate little noises every time the head of Jack's cock hit something sensitive. 

Jack withdrew, until only the tip of his cock was inside of Mark. He let go of Mark's dick, sitting back on his heels, and he began to thrust shallowly, the head of his cock pressing against Mark's prostate. 

Mark tried to arch off of the bed, but was held captive by Jack's hands on his ankles. 

Jack took Mark's toes into his mouth again, on the other foot this time, and he sucked on them like a cock, occasionally sliding his tongue between them, just to hear Mark's urgent cries. 

“Holy fuck, oh my god, oh, oh, _oh_!”

“Oh your god?” Jack withdrew almost all the way out, until just the head remained, and the muscles of Mark's hole tried to draw him in again, as deep as he could get. 

He licked a stripe down Mark's foot, along the arch, and sucked the delicate spot where the sole joins the arch. 

Mark was trembling, clearly trying to stay still. 

If he moved too much, Jack would slide out. 

His cock was twitching like a tuning fork. 

“Jack,” Mark moaned, Mark begged, in a voice grown high and hollow, “Jack, please, don't stop!”

“Don't stop what?” Jack feigned ignorance, holding onto Mark's ankles. 

Every time he spoke, a little puff of air passed across Mark's sole, and it made Mark squirm some more. 

“Anything!”

Jack pushed himself in deeper, still angling up to hit Mark's prostate 

“Anything anything?”

“You… you know what I mean,” Mark whined, as Jack went deeper.

“No, I don't,” Jack said, keeping up his teasing tone. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to play with my feet,” Mark said, and his voice cracked. 

“What do you want me to play?” Jack drew his hips back again, his cock halfway out. “I don't think they'd be that good at Mario Kart. Being feet and all.”

“I swear to fucking god, Jack, if you do not stop bullshitting me I am going to get up and take a cold shower,” Mark snarled. 

Jack snorted. 

Pushing Mark to this point was, quite possibly, Jack's favorite thing to do. 

Getting Mark to be rude, desperate, demanding. 

“Well, when ya put it like that,” Jack said, exaggerating his accent for comical effect. 

He took Mark's toes into his mouth, and he sucked them, hard enough that his cheeks were hollowed out. 

Mark bellowed like he was in pain, his hips rising up to meet Jack's as he was well and truly _fucked_ , like the two of them were in some kind of weird porno. 

With how deep inside Jack was, he felt Mark's orgasm before Mark did. 

Mark cried out when he came, his cock untouched, his toes still in Jack's mouth. His ass was gripping Jack's dick in a vice, and this must have been what a champagne cork felt like, because now Jack's very blood was carbonated, roiling, about to pop. 

Jack came inside of Mark, inside of the condom, buried up to the hilt, Mark's toes still in his mouth. 

He knew he must have looked especially stupid, with a mouth full of foot obstructing his “O” face, but Mark was looking up at him with an expression that could only be read as tender. 

“Hey, Jack?” Mark's voice was rough - he would have to be careful for his next few videos. 

“Yeah?”

“I think I get your weird foot thing.” 

Jack, pulling himself out of Mark, laughed, the condom into a knot and tossing it towards the trash. 

“Good to know,” Jack said, cuddling up to Mark. “Now we can get the really weird stuff.”

“What, there's more?”

“Obviously,” said Jack, snuggling in. “But maybe only one weird perversion a night?”

“If you insist,” Mark said, sighing melodramatically.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic? Check out my tumblr! theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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